From time to time I’ve talked about my siblings, albeit not often because I don’t interact with them all that much. My only surviving sister lives off in her own world, and more power to her. She opted out of becoming a mom, married a couple of times, and lives in a tiny junk-filled house despite making a ridiculous pile of money. I love her but don’t pretend to understand her.
My only brother, on the other hand, is a world unto himself. Heck, sometimes I think he’s from another planet. He has an engineering degree and twice blew off six-figure jobs by means of unmitigated stupidity. I mean, one job went the way of the dinosaur because he was perusing porn at work. On work computers. The second one followed along the same pattern. A couple of years ago he lost yet ANOTHER good-paying job because he was literally going through refrigerators at work and helping himself to other people’s lunches. Security cameras don’t miss, so he got called up on it and whined as he was being fired, “Everybody does it. It’s no big deal.”
Yeah, no. Not everybody does it and it IS a big deal when you get walked out of yet more gainful employment, numbnuts.
Back around 3-4 years ago, the brother unit stayed a couple of months on our sofa, eating us nearly out of house and home, and backhanding our two-year-old grandson (the last straw), before I kicked him to the curb. By the way, he was making nearly as much on his job then as I was, and I was supporting myself, hubby, daughter and grandson, AND my feckless brother for all that time. My brother moved into his car rather than get his act together, and to the best of my knowledge was still there a couple of years later. He apparently mooched… er, moved in with a young couple from his church and stayed with them for a while. They moved out of state, leaving him on his own. Knowing my brother, I suspect they moved out of state just to escape him.
Today this illustrious paragon of manhood announced on Facebook that he’d been accepted for an apartment of his own. I translated that to mean he’d run out of people who’d allow him to mooch, and was truly desperate. He was being praised right and left by deluded souls about how God had answered prayers, yada yada yada. I don’t take issues with people’s religious beliefs, but let’s just say my brother’s ideas of piety don’t align with mine. Ya know, the “Thou shalt not steal,” among other things. If he had any remorse (other than being sorry he was caught), maybe I’d feel differently.
I decided to take the high road and told him I was glad he found a place, to which he replied, “Yes, it’s been a long time in the making. I had been living with a young couple from my church but they had a job opportunity come up in California and had to leave suddenly. I’ll be alright, though. I remember back when we were growing up and we never had to go without. Mom and dad made sacrifices for us kids and I remember several times we didn’t have very much to eat but we always managed to survive.”
Ummm. Yeah. About that. Mom’s and Dad’s “sacrifices” involved tucking hundred dollar bills into the preacher’s hand while us girls had to scramble for whatever we could get. *I* didn’t get bupkis. My brother had a free ride. I had to get a full-time job in summertime (the year I was fourteen I was averaging 80 hours a week) to pay for my clothing, personal products, books and other school supplies, plus do the housework and babysit my little sister whenever I wasn’t “working”. Oh, and while my brother did work part time, I also generally had to pay for his lunch at school, out of my money.
But whatever else was true, we never were short on food at home. We might not have eaten like kings, and God knows my mom wasn’t the best cook, but we always had food in the house.
Sometimes I wonder if my brother’s actually got any blood relationship to me, then I’m reminded he’s a carbon copy of my dad: socially and morally putrefied but wearing a thin veneer of civility. And much as I’d like to disclaim my dad, I look just like him and his mom, so I don’t even have the luxury of claiming I’m a bastard. I just have to live with the thought I’m related to Sheldon Cooper, only with no redeeming values whatsoever.
On a more positive and less head-shaking note, it’s raining here, so our temps have dropped into the 90’s with humidity. Humidity or not, I’ll take that 20-degree-plus temperature reduction, baby!
Blah blah blah blah….blah blah…blah blah blah…PORN!…blah blah blah blah blah blah blah….
I like him 🙂
Cool. Then he can come live with you.
No problemo. I have nothing he could take!
He’ll clear your pantry, fridge, and freezer in two days flat. But he’s quiet and clean. He’s all yours now.
On second thought….
So many successful people come from such terribly difficult backgrounds. While you have suffered and worked yourself to the point of exhaustion, look how far you have come and how much you have done. It’s too bad that those who have great intellect have no common sense and can’t seem to get out of their own way.
I’m grateful for some things about my history, Terri. I learned self-sufficiency by the time I was 7 or 8, and younger for some things. I learned I can do whatever it takes to survive, which is why now I’ve got a peaceful life and live comfortably within my means. My brother, God help him, is the most helpless twit you ever met. He’s truly clueless about so many basic life skills.